


Sleepovers and Séances

by pseudosmodingium



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Divorced Castiel, First Kiss, Fluff, Haunted House, M/M, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Referenced Drug Overdose, Sam Has a Dog, Tattooed Dean, seance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 05:23:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12574644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudosmodingium/pseuds/pseudosmodingium
Summary: Despite considering himself a rational human being, Castiel does believe in, or, at least, fear certain inexplicable forces. Maybe it’s a bad omen that the day he moves into his new home happens to be a Friday 13th. Yet, the black cat crossing his path over the course might not mean bad luck at all as the incident leads to him meeting his charming new neighbor Dean Winchester.Dean is offering support when things start to go sideways—first with the relationship between Cas and his daughter Claire and then, above all, something that has to be a ghost, because ghosts turn out to be real. Or is Cas just having a breakdown following his recent divorce?





	Sleepovers and Séances

**Author's Note:**

> Given that this is a ghost story, I hope it's at least a little bit scary.

One of this year’s last mild winds shakes the warm and brightly colored leaves still desperately clinging to the branches of the trees that seam the road. Some lose the fight, swirling towards the ground where they join the others, rustling under the feet of two men making their way up to the most neglected of the otherwise well-cared-for Folk Victorian style homes bordering the autumnal street.

A floorboard whines under his weight as Castiel follows Mr. Turner up the steps to the porch. It’s not spacious, offering just enough room for an old rocking chair that, just us as the house itself, has obviously seen better days. Cas assumes the ancient piece of furniture is more of an decorative element attached to the overall appearance of the house than something one is actually supposed to sit on; something only held together by varnish, inevitably set to break should someone intend to rest their rear on it.

Cas notices several places where the petrol paint of the house is flaking off. _This is only temporary,_ he tells himself. Mr. Turner has already walked over the threshold and Cas joins him inside, the front door making a screeching sound as he closes it behind him. He detects a considerably wide gap between the door and the battered floor and sends a quick prayer to heaven that he will be out of this dump before actual winter hits town and the unwillingly invited draft makes him freeze to death.

Mr. Turner has been talking all the time, providing information on what needs to be regarded when making use of various things, like you’re not supposed to flip this light switch when energy is currently drawn from that outlet and so on. Castiel doesn’t really listen. For now, though, he has no other choice as to accept the house with all its flaws and signs the lease on the aged kitchen table. The rent is cheap and the house is mostly furnished. _This is only temporary,_ Cas tells himself again after his new landlord has left him alone with the keys. It’s awfully quiet in here. He isn’t used to this much silence. Don’t get him wrong, Cas appreciates the tranquility; something he didn’t get too often when he was still living with his wife and daughter. Especially when Claire had decided to grace everyone else in the house with her preferred kind of music—usually a woman screaming over heavy guitar riffs and hectic drumbeats.

Now he misses the noise.

He looks around and despite the furniture and some ugly pictures on the wall, faded with time, the house looks empty. Of course he could have stayed with his brother for a few more months. At least until after Christmas. But Cas knows this wouldn’t have ended well. Gabriel already had him climbing the walls. Living with his brother was like being a freshman in college again. One may assume that people eventually grow up when they get older, but Gabriel is the proverbial exception that proves the rule. Crashing on Gabriel’s couch was basically being trapped in a never-ending frat party, his whole existence consisting of a constant cycle of drunken hookups and hangovers. How he even manages to maintain a livelihood, Castiel fails to comprehend.

Cas proceeds to inspect the bathroom. It is surprisingly clean, save for the mold at the edge of the tub. He turns on the faucet by the sink to check if the water is fresh and not brown and muddy or whatever. The jet is a bit weak, probably due to calcification, and every now and then there’s a wailing sound from the air in the pipes which dies down soon, but otherwise it seems to be working just fine.

Castiel looks up in the mirror and sees the face of a man with dark rings under his eyes. Every fine line of his skin is exposed by the sharp, greenish light the only lamp in the room provides. He didn’t know he had that many wrinkles. He looks tired, exhausted even, and he probably is. He just hasn’t had the time yet to acknowledge it.

His eyes catch sight of the bottom right corner of the mirror where a significantly big piece is missing. Seven years of bad luck for whomever did this, Cas thinks. Or does it not really count if it’s not completely broken? Three and a half years maybe, he considers.

He absently reaches out his right hand, his mind preoccupied with the thought of someone else’s misfortune, and hisses in pain as soon as he touches the razor-sharp spot on the damaged mirror. Now this is something he can only blame on his own stupidity, Cas thinks while sucking at his bleeding finger.

“This is only temporary,” he says, as if it changes anything about his situation.

 

“You got to be kidding, bro,” Gabriel says, carrying the tiniest of Castiel’s boxes up to the house. “Do you feel the weird vibe this house gives off, too? People have probably died in there.”

“The house is about ninety years old. It is very likely,” Cas states.

“I understand that you prefer houses with a certain charm, a history, but Cassie, this junkyard here is so beneath you,” Gabriel insists and leans against the railings of the porch. “And renting is a waste of money.”

“I’m not planning on staying here forever, Gabe. I just need to get back on my own feet again before I can actually buy a home. As you know I’m kinda broke after the divorce.”

“You know, that’s what I don’t get. Why did _she_ get the house? You bought it together, right.”

“It’s Claire’s home, too. I can’t take that away from her. The house she’s used to is the only stability we can give her right now. We don’t want her to feel like everything’s changing just because her parents realized they don’t have a future as a couple.”

“Is she also seeing it this way?”

“She’s—” Castiel hesitates, avoiding Gabriel’s knowing gaze. “She’ll accept it sooner or later.” Hopefully sooner, he adds in his head and rushes inside the house.

“Anyhoo… Moving your stuff has been fun and all, but I have to go now,” Gabe says after dropping off his small share of responsibility and gives his brother a brief hug.

“What are you talking about?” Cas asks, giving Gabe a bewildered look. “We still need to carry all my things inside.”

“Yeah, sorry. I’ve got a date and I’m already running late,” Gabe explains. “Love you, bye.”

“Gabriel!” Cas calls after him but his brother doesn’t stop to listen and soon he’s in his car, letting his Camaro’s engine roar twice as he waves at Cas from behind the steering wheel and drives away.

Castiel sighs as he tries not to think of what he’d like to do to his brother right now, admits defeat and continues to bring the rest of his belongings inside.

It’s still warm outside but he can feel colder days approaching. The sun is setting earlier every day and he’s somehow wary of the night to come. This will be the first night in many years he’ll spend all on his own in a house that’s unfamiliar and it will take longer until sunrise because it’s fall and above all comes that today’s Friday the 13th.

Cas has always been a little superstitious but his loneliness seems to have done something to the part of his brain that’s responsible for rational thinking and feels stupid for his anxiousness over the current date.

The tinkling of a wind chime reaches his ears as he’s about to lift the last of his boxes from the trunk and he doesn’t pay quite as much attention to where he’s walking as he probably should and searches his surroundings for the faint melody’s source. He likes how the light sounds distract him until he glimpses a black spot dashing in front of his feet. His sight is blocked by the cardboard box in his embrace, so he only realizes he’s about to trip over the curbstone when it is too late. Castiel’s belongings land with a crash and his right elbow scrapes over the pavement as his fall comes to an end.

“Fu—,” he begins to curse but then he catches sight of what caused his accident and is startled by the black cat curiously sniffing the things he just dropped.

He withdraws too quickly and bumps his elbow once more. That’s really the last thing he needed to today. A black cat crossing his path from left to right on this exact date.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

Cas looks over his shoulder and sees a handsome looking man approach him.

“Uh,” he starts and realizes he’s bled through his shirt sleeve.

“The cat walked between my feet,” he says as if that’s an answer to the guy’s question.

“Here, let me help you,” he says and pulls Cas up from the sidewalk.

“I hate black cats,” he says as he dusts his pants off.

“What, that little guy?” the stranger asks. “Come on, he’s cute.”

“Is he your cat?” Castiel asks.

“No, I’m allergic. But I like Quentin nevertheless.”

“Quentin?”

“He’s the Banes’ cat. They live over there,” he says and points at the maroon house across the street where Cas finally spots the wind chime. “You new here?”

“Uh, yes,” Cas says. “I’m moving in right now.”

“Well, welcome then,” the stranger says, “to the neighborhood. My name is Dean. Dean Winchester. I live right next to you.”

“Nice to meet you, Dean. I’m Castiel Novak, but you can call me Cas.”

“Can I help you with anything, Cas?” Dean asks. The smile on his face tells Cas his friendliness is genuine and Dean’s not offering out of pure politeness.

“Uh, no, thanks. This is the last box,” Cas says and hisses in pain as he tries to pick up his broken possessions.

“Let me at least patch you up, okay? I bet it’d take you some time to locate your first aid kit in your moving mess.”

Cas tries to come up with an excuse for Dean not to worry but his brows are furrowed with concern and Cas eventually nods in agreement. “That’d be really kind of you, thanks.”

“Good. I’ll just get this inside for you first,” Dean tells him and snatches the ripped box away from under Cas’s nose before he can even think of trying to grab it again.

He gives the cat a quick side-eye and goes after Dean who has just reached the first step leading up to his new home.

“Just sit down and wait here. I’ll be right back,” he tells Cas who slumps onto the threadbare sofa and leaves to get some bandages and antiseptic from his house.

 

“Does it hurt?”

It’s obviously a rhetorical question because Cas’s arm jerks a little every time Dean touches his elbow with the cotton pad, making a thorough job of cleaning the wound.

“Is everyone in the neighborhood as nice as you are?” Cas says instead.

“Most people, yeah,” Dean affirms, wrapping the bandage around Castiel’s arm. “There you go,” he says and pats Cas’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Dean. Really.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says and scoots slightly away from him now that he’s finished. There’s a moment of silence before Dean starts to collect the used cotton pads from the coffee table.

“Have you lived here long?” Cas blurts out. He doesn’t want Dean to leave, not yet.

“A few years, yes. Where do you come from?” he asks.

“Oh, I’m not from out of town. I just had to quickly find a new place to stay after my divorce and…you know.”

“You had a recent divorce?”

“Yeah, well. It’s not great but it was the right decision. To be honest, it’s been over a long time ago. We were only trying to fix things for our kid’s sake but in the end we couldn’t make it work again.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Cas.”

“It’s okay. I’m here now and both of us will find someone else who’ll make us happy, I hope.”

“Cas, listen. I know what you’re going through. I mean, I’ve never actually been married and the child was not exactly mine but I loved him like he was. You can come over if you wanna talk.”

“You still see him, your son I mean?”

“No, I…” Dean looks really upset all of a sudden and Cas feels bad for interrogating.

“You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry I asked.”

“No, it’s alright. Ben and his mother moved to another state. We only talk on the phone every once in a while. But whatever, it’s been years. I’m over it.” Both of them know that’s not true.

“So, uh,” Dean starts and rises from the sofa. “I was glad I could cheer you up a little,” he resumes and huffs a forced laugh.

“Thank you for your help,” Cas says and accompanies Dean to the door.

“I’ll see you around,” Dean says and leaves.

Cas is all by himself again and the sun is going down but he doesn’t want to think of the night ahead, so he plucks his iPod to the speakers and turns on the music. If he focuses on that, he doesn’t have to think of how alone he is in this ratty, old house.

He’s exhausted after unpacking most of his stuff and has taken a shower that only remained warm for a couple of minutes although he could’ve really used an extended wash under a hot spray of water to soothe his tenseness. But it is as it is for now and Cas is too tired to even think of doing anything about it.

Despite that it takes him hours to fall asleep. He even leaves the little lamp on his nightstand on because he’s afraid of nothing. Old houses make noises all the time. Wood creaks in every corner, there’s knocking from the pipes and all the windows and the front door are drafty.

Still, Castiel pulls the blanket over his head, curled up on the bed, waiting for it to get light outside.

~~~*~~~

Dean doesn’t see Cas again the following days. Maybe he’s scared him off with his over-sharing. He just wanted to convince the guy that it gets better. That things will settle and he can start a new, post-marriage life. It did take a while for Dean, too, after his relationship with Lisa ended and she announced they’d move away to live closer to her mom. By doing so she basically took his son away from Dean—which he is, even though they aren’t related by blood—and there was nothing he could have done about it.

He is good now. He’s had other relationships but the right person hasn’t crossed his path yet. There’s no rush. He’ll be forty next year, so he’s got plenty of time to meet someone, fall in love, get together. He’s content with what he’s got.

It’s still early on this Tuesday evening and a quick look outside confirms that Cas’s car is parked in front of his house. Luckily, Dean’s bought a six-pack on his way home from work which should be enough of an excuse to stop by Cas’s place.

“Hey, buddy,” he says to Quentin who is sniffing around on Castiel’s porch when Dean gets there and, after knocking, Dean is about to tell him he’s not exactly welcome here but loud stomping from inside that seems to shake the entire house gives the cat a jolt and off he is.

“I can’t believe your mother allowed you to get a nose ring,” he hears Cas shout through the door.

“Well, I didn’t exactly ask her before I got it but she thinks it’s cool,” says another voice which appears much closer than Cas’s.

The door opens right afterwards and Dean’s eyes meet a teenage girl, her blond hair styled into a sidecut.

“Who are _you?_ ” she says.

Dean is about to speak but the girl turns around before he can make a sound and she informs Cas, who is a few feet behind her, “It’s not the pizza guy.”

“Bad time?” he asks directed at Cas.

“Claire, this is Mr. Winchester, my new neighbor,” Cas introduces them.

“You think fifteen is old enough to get along on your own for two days?” she asks Dean. The pout on her face reminds him of Grumpy Cat.

“Uh…I guess?” Dean’s not sure if that’s the right answer.

“See,” she says, looking at Cas over her shoulder, “I don’t need a babysitter anymore.”

“This has nothing to do with us thinking you’re immature or that you can’t take care of yourself. Your mother and I are just worried because you’re going through a hard time and we don’t think you should be alone right now,” Cas speaks softly to her.

“I hate you!” she yells and storms off to somewhere upstairs, slamming a door shut behind her.

“Cool nose ring!” Dean shouts after her and winks at Cas when he sees his scandalized expression.

“Dean,” Cas says, walking closer towards the door, “I’m sorry for that.”

“Hey, Cas. I brought beer but I can come another time if it’s inconvenient right now.”

“No, please, come in. I could use some cheering up,” Cas says and makes room so Dean can step inside.

“Was that your daughter?” Dean asks as he follows Cas into the kitchen.

“Yes. Her mother is out of town on a business trip and Claire’s staying with me for two nights,” Cas explains and puts the beer save for two bottles in the fridge.

“She always like this?”

Cas combs a hand through his hair as he takes a deep breath. “She’s a good kid,” he says then, somewhat distracted. He doesn’t look happy.

“She doesn’t mean it, you know,” Dean says and Cas looks at him. “She doesn’t actually hate you. She’s just as upset as you are over the whole, messed-up situation.”

“I know,” Cas sighs.

Dean takes one of the bottles from the kitchen table, opens it and hands it to Cas. “Cheers,” he says after uncapping the second one and both take a long draw from their beers.

“Have you settled in already?” Dean asks after a short pause.

Cas takes another sip from his bottle before he replies, “I’ve put up with my current living situation. Though, I have to admit, with all the noises such an old house makes, it’s a bit scary at night.”

“Yeah, it’s sad Rufus doesn’t care to properly renovate,” Dean says.

“Rufus?” Cas asks, slightly confused, until something dawns on him. “Oh, you mean Mr. Tuner. You know him?”

“He’s a good friend of my uncle Bobby’s,” Dean tells him. “We’ve talked about the house but Rufus thinks he won’t live to see a modernization paying off, so he doesn’t bother with repairing more than what’s strictly necessary.”

“It’s okay, given that I don’t plan on living here forever,” Cas says.

“Hey,” Dean says, “if there’s ever something that needs to be fixed immediately, just bribe him with some Johnny Walker. He’ll do anything for you then, ASAP.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Cas says and lets out a small laugh.

Cas wants to add something but he’s interrupted by a knock on the door. “The pizza,” he says and jumps from his chair.

Only a moment later he returns to the kitchen, holding two pizza boxes and then shouts, “Claire, pizza!”

A muffled “I’m not hungry” resonates through the staircase and Cas shrugs his shoulders. “We’ll save something for her. She’ll come down eventually,” he notes and opens the boxes.

“Cas, I didn’t mean to invite myself to dinner,” Dean says but Cas tells him not to be ridiculous and just help himself.

They eat and each gets their second beer and Cas tells Dean about his job as an editor at a publishing company and then Dean begins to speak about what he does for a living, getting carried away a little as he paints a glamorous picture of what it’s like to remodel classic cars, while Cas listens with sincere interest.

“Unfortunately, I’ve been pretty much wrapped up in customer relations lately rather than working on designs or even doing the handiwork myself. Bobby’ll let me take over the business when he retires in a year or two but I’m confident I’ll find the time again to actually do what I love and that is restoring old cars with my own two hands,” Dean says.

“Did you fix up the black car in your driveway, too?” Cas inquires.

“Yeah, the Impala was a wreck when I got her but now she’s as good as new,” Dean confirms with a wide grin on his face.

“You did a great job there,” Cas tells him and Dean hopes the compliment doesn’t make him blush.

“Hey, look who’s there,” Dean says then and Cas turns to see Claire entering the kitchen.

“Hey, sweetie, we saved some pizza for you. Shall I warm it up for in the microwave?” Cas asks.

“No, I like cold pizza,” Claire mumbles and takes a seat across from Dean and Cas.

No-one speaks after that and the two men awkwardly fumble with their bottles while they watch Claire slowly chew her pizza.

“So, Claire,” Dean says eventually after clearing his throat, “you like your dad’s new neighborhood?”

“The other houses look nice but this here is a shithole,” she says with a full mouth.

“Claire!” Cas scolds but Dean laughs.

“Yeah, it’s not exactly luxurious,” he agrees.

“Which house do you live in?” she asks.

“Mine is the green one next door,” he says.

Cas’s phone rings before they can continue the conversation. From the way his voice changes, like he’s about to fend off an argument, Dean assumes it’s Claire’s mother and Cas quickly excuses himself before he leaves the room.

“So, I overheard your dad’s not very happy with the piercing you got there,” Dean says when Cas is out of earshot.

“Are you going to lecture me too about it? Thanks but I already have a dad,” Claire snaps and throws a half-eaten slice of pizza back into the carton.

“Don’t worry,” Dean says and waves a hand at her. “I get you’re in this phase where you have to rebel against all kinds of authority and I think getting your nose pierced is an acceptable way to show that. Just…go easy on your dad. He’s having a rough time, too.”

“What did you do when you went through that ‘phase’?” she asks sarcastically, making air quotes when she repeats Dean’s word choice.

“I got a tattoo. Shoulda seen my dad’s face. It was hilarious!”

“You have a tattoo?” Now she’s genuinely interested.

“Several,” he says and rolls his sweater up to his elbow to expose skin covered in black ink. “It goes all the way up to my shoulder.”

“You’re much cooler than you look,” she says then and Dean just gapes at her while he thinks of a good comeback but Cas is already walking back into the kitchen, so Dean quickly hides his arm under the table where he pulls his sleeve back down.

“At least the neighbors are nice,” Claire tells him with a smirk. “I should probably finish my homework now,” she says and leaves the room.

“Did I miss something?” Cas asks when there’s only the two of them left.

“No, we were just talking about her nose ring,” Dean says.

“I can’t believe she actually got such a thing,” Cas says and takes a swig from his beer.

“It’s not the end of the world,” Dean soothes him.

Cas sighs. “You’re right,” he agrees and gets the remaining beers from the fridge. “Let’s just talk about something else.”

 

Dean tells him more about his Uncle Bobby and Cas’s landlord Rufus until he decides it’s time to go and thanks Cas once more for the pizza.

Cas could’ve easily kept him around for longer but he has to go to work after all in the morning and drive Claire to school before that, so it’s only reasonable to turn in soon.

He hasn’t had as much to drink as the three beers he’s consumed tonight in a long time and he feels a pleasant buzz. Falling asleep shouldn’t be much of an issue and it isn’t.

Though, when he’s woken up in the middle of the night by a distant bumping, his head is pounding slightly. He tries to ignore the noises but with every strike the sounds seem to bore holes through his temples.

Cas groans as he rolls out of bed. He’s ready to berate Claire for staying up so late and disturbing his sleep with that awful music again but when he gets near her room he can’t actually hear the beat that caused him distress. Carefully, he cracks the door open, being startled by the creak the hinges make, only to find his daughter sound asleep.

Maybe he imagined it. Maybe it was a dream. And great, now that he’s up he has to pee.

If he were already used to living in this house, he wouldn’t bother to switch on the lights but he isn’t and running into some obstacle and risking an accident wouldn’t make him less awake than he already is.

Cas winces at the cruel brightness of the bathroom lamp stinging in his eyeballs. He realizes he’s walked in here barefoot and the cold tiles are assaulting his feet while he reliefs himself. He’s sure he can feel the temperature drop with every second he’s in here and when he washes his hands afterwards he could swear he’s seeing his breath form tiny clouds as it’s leaving his mouth. Then the lights begin to flicker and Cas regrets ever signing the lease to this house. The fluorescent lamp over the mirror makes one last weak attempt to stay on before it dies for good, leaving Cas surrounded by darkness.

Yet another thing he has to deal with tomorrow, he thinks and tries to find his way out of the bathroom without bumping into a wall.

The noises haven’t stopped he realizes when his head meets his pillow again. _What is that?_ he wonders. Some kind of animal maybe that has gotten into the walls. _Oh god, please don’t let it be rats!_

It is impossible to sleep with whatever is going on, he finds, and moves out of bed once again, takes the steps downstairs to retreat to the living room where it’s wonderfully quiet. Yet he twists and turns, unable to reach a comfortable position on the sofa that’s obviously not meant to be slept on. It’s awful but it has to do for now.

 

“Dad? _Dad,_ wake up!”

Every bone in his body hurts when he comes to. It’s already light outside which tells Cas he’s overslept.

“We have to leave in twenty minutes,” Claire informs him. He blinks the brightness of the new day away only to see his daughter has had enough time to apply a thick layer of black makeup to her eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” he asks, his voice hoarse from sleep.

“You’re the grown-up, remember. It’s not my fault you can’t set your alarm right.”

Cas groans as he pulls himself up by the backrest. It’s too early for having a discussion like this.

Before heading to the bathroom upstairs, he sets up the coffee maker to make sure he’ll at least have a cup to go. There’s no time for a shower but Claire has probably used up all hot water anyway, so he opts for just quickly washing up and brushing his teeth.

“You look like hell,” Claire tells him when they’re in the car. “How much did you have to drink last night?”

“Not much,” he says, offended.

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I could’ve sworn it smelled like vomit when I came into the bathroom.”

“What? Claire, no, I wasn’t drunk. And I didn’t get sick from just a few beers.” He turns the key in the ignition and the engine comes to life. “You should be careful what you’re implying there.”

“Whatever,” she sighs and leans forward to turn the radio on which instantly fills the car with loud and heavy rock music.

Cas reaches for the on/off button to bring an end to the interruption of the pleasant silence this morning had born up until now.

Claire huffs and crosses her arms in front of her chest, pointedly looking out of the passenger side window.

“By the way,” Cas says when they’re a few minutes into the drive, “I didn’t sleep very well. Did you also her that noise? That bumping? First I thought it was your music.”

“Oh, now everything’s my fault,” Claire snaps.

“No, Claire, that’s not what I meant—”

“Can we just not talk, please?”

“Fine,” Cas says.

They stay quiet for the rest of the ride and Claire doesn’t return his goodbye when Cas drops her off at school.

At eleven he finds the time to call Mr. Turner who fends off every last bit of Cas’s criticism.

“There ain’t no rats in that house, Novak! It’s old but I damn sure kept it clean and rodent-free.”

“I didn’t say it’s not clean. But there’s something making noises at night. Maybe there’s bats under the roof—”

“No bats there either,” the old man insists.

“Could be a raccoon,” Cas offers instead.

“Then make sure to shut your trash cans properly if you don’t wanna invite them.”

“Can’t you just come to take a look at it real quick? I—”

“If your neglectfulness attracted vermin, call an exterminator,” Mr. Turner advises him rudely and hangs up.

Cas sighs at the phone in his hand. Dean has warned him that his landlord can be stubborn but he also informed him about his weakness.

Claire isn’t pleased that her father has to run an errand after picking her up and keeps bugging him about how much homework she’s got and that she would already be home if she didn’t have to stay with him while her mom’s away.

“Really?” she says when they stop at the liquor store.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he promises and picks something that he thinks will do.

“Having a party?” Claire sneers at the bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag.

“It’s a gift for someone,” he says.

Then, Claire takes a breath before asking, “Dad, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says and is surprised to see his daughter not rolling her eyes at him for once but looking all sincere, like she’s actually worried about him.

“This is not for me, like I said. I haven’t started drinking,” he tells her in an urgent tone. “And please refrain from mentioning such allegations to your mom.”

“Alright, I got it,” she hisses and gives him the cold shoulder for the remainder of the evening.

At least Mr. Turner agrees to swing by the house tomorrow to fix the lamp in the bathroom and get rid of whatever’s kept him awake during the night when Cas stops by his place and reveals what’s inside the paper bag he’s carried up to his door.

Claire doesn’t leave her room after she’s had a PB&J sandwich for dinner. She doesn’t answer when Cas knocks at her door to wish her a good night either, but when he takes a quick peek inside he sees that she’s wearing earphones and probably not so much ignored him but just couldn’t hear him. Yet, he does nothing to get her attention.

When Cas turns in afterwards with a book, he again is able to discern a distant beat. First he thinks his prophylactic annoyance makes him imagine things. He’s been pessimistic throughout the day that the noises won’t have stopped and after listening for a minute, doing his best to remain calm, he comes to the conclusion that there’s really something going on and hopes Mr. Turner will get rid of it the next day.

For the second night in a row he shuffles downstairs and lies down on the sofa. His efforts to untangle the blanket elicit sparks as the material slides against his flannel pajama bottoms, illuming his makeshift bedstead for a split second. The brief flashes of light soothe him somehow, despite their eeriness, like small shimmers of hope.

By the time sleep catches up with him, Cas is only a bundle of blankets, shielded from head to toe against the ghastly chill that has taken over the room.

 

In the morning Claire complains about the supposed reek of sick in the bathroom again. This time, though, Cas can smell it too. He can’t exactly tell where it’s coming from but supposes it has to do with sewer smells soaring through the drain. As a precautionary measure, he closes the toilet lid before he leaves. Not that he actually expects doing so will change anything. It’s fall and moist and the condition will probably get worse when it starts to rain and nature continues its annual perish.

This time Claire parts with a shy, yet caring “bye, dad” when Cas drops her off at school. She’s stopped being mad for now and that’s what counts. He most certainly won’t see his daughter again for the next two weeks and relishes the unexpected warmth in her voice.

The rest of the day goes by uneventful, which Castiel is thankful for, and is satisfied to spot Mr. Turner’s car parked outside his house.

When he walks up the porch he can hear faint music coming from inside and as soon as the door swings open the unfamiliar song unfolds its full capacity to him. As he steers into the back of the house, voices add to the guitar tune and when he reaches the kitchen Cas sees Mr. Turner and Dean sitting at the table, between them the bottle Cas bought yesterday. The music stops.

“Hey,” Cas says.

“Oh, hey Cas!” Dean replies and his face lights up when he notices him.

“Mr. Turner,” Cas addresses the older man and gives him a nod.

“Novak,” he says.

There’s a brief moment of awkwardness that Dean breaks by saying, “Sorry we’re occupying your kitchen while you were out. I just gave Rufus a hand when I saw he’s here.”

“It’s okay,” Cas says, takes off his coat and takes a seat with them.

“Want some of the whiskey you got me?” Mr. Turner asks but Cas politely declines the offer. He shouldn’t make drinking a habit after what Claire suspected. Not that there was anything to suspect.

“What was that music before I came in?” He finds it weird that it stopped in the middle of the song.

“Music?” Dean asks.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Mr. Turner says. “But after all my hearing ain’t what it used to be.”

“But,” Cas stumbles, “the volume was rather high. You must’ve heard something.”

“Maybe it was from a car driving by,” Dean suggests.

“No, it came from inside the house. It was like this psychedelic, LSD-trippy kinda thing.”

“Like from Woodstock?” Dean asks.

“Yes, exactly! I thought you were listening to it before I walked in.”

“I was never a fan of that hippie music,” Rufus states. “I prefer klezmer. The things that can be done with a clarinet…those lazy kids had no idea what real art is.”

“I knew you have always been an old man—even when you were young,” Dean says with a chuckle.

“Seriously guys, didn’t you hear _anything?_ ”

“Sorry, Cas, no. We were just talking and drinking but no music.”

“I might have one after all,” Cas tells him and Dean pours him a glass.

“Long day?” Dean asks when Cas takes a sip.

“It was actually quite good. However, I haven’t slept well the last two nights. Speaking of which…could you fix everything?”

“The bathroom lamp had a loose connection. It should work now,” Dean says.

“And the nocturnal bumping? Where did that come from?”

“Don’t know,” Rufus says. “It certainly ain’t rats. I told you the house is clean and pest-free.”

“But what is it?”

“We might be having a Princess and the Pea,” Mr. Turner murmurs into his whiskey while he’s taking a drink.

“Hey,” Dean scolds him. “Cas is a fine human being. Don’t be rude.”

Rufus shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes at him. “Whatever.”

Obviously there isn’t much of a difference between a grumpy old man and a moody teenager.

“I’m sorry we weren’t able to do something,” Dean says then.

“You didn’t have to do anything, Dean,” Cas tells him. “Thank you anyway.”

“Well, I did the job…or what could be done. Like I said, it’s probably a raccoon scavenging from your garbage. Might have to put something heavy on the lid,” Rufus says, gets up and empties his whiskey. “I’m off,” he declares and takes the bottle with him.

“I hope it wasn’t too rude of us to sit here and drink without you,” Dean says when Mr. Turner has left.

“It’s nice not to have to come home to an empty house,” Cas says and Dean sheepishly looks away.

They chat for a while about this and that. Time just flies because it’s so easy to talk to Dean and he’s grateful for having found a friend in his new neighbor.

Later, when Cas goes to bed, everything around him is pleasantly silent and, for once, he’s able to sleep through the night. Maybe moving here wasn’t such a bad decision after all.

~~~*~~~

The first week in his new home is over and Cas is relieved to have the weekend off. He’s planned to take some me-time since he hasn’t been able to properly do that in ages. It’s something he would have needed ever since the divorce was inevitably going to happen and he moved in with Gabriel. Living with his brother, however, was the exact opposite of unwinding from all that comes with ending a marriage.

Now the time had finally come.

He tidies up a bit, does the dishes he hasn’t gotten to yet and then rewards himself with a nice, hot bath, lightening a scented candle to counter the smell that just won’t go away. For an even more relaxing atmosphere, Cas sets up his iPhone speakers and puts on some Rachmaninov.

 _This is nice_ , he thinks as he plays with the foam, giggles when he uses it to make his own Santa beard and hums along with the music.

Everything is good, everything is right and when his favorite part is about to come up he’s full on conducting his own orchestra and—

Since when is there singing in this piano concerto?

He sits up in the tub and looks over to the iPod but it’s too far to read. Whatever song it just jumped to— _who’s Alice?_ —Cas is certain he never uploaded it.

Maybe Gabe was messing with his stuff when they lived together, yet this doesn’t explain why it skipped half of the previous track and started in the middle of another song.

He reaches for the towel, quickly dries off and goes to take a closer look.

 _Jefferson Airplane._ He’s heard of that but he has absolutely no idea where it’s coming from now.

He tries to stop it, switch to the next track. When nothing works he simply pulls the iPod off the docking station but the song _White Rabbit_ is still blaring from the speakers.

“What the—”

With an abrupt change the orchestra is playing at maximum forte, then the connection to the speakers breaks and Cas is tumbling backwards, wet feet slipping across the tile, and he just barely manages not to fall.

His heart is racing as he leans against the wall for support. What the hell is going on here? This isn’t normal—or is it? Maybe there’s a technical explanation for this…he’s not an expert, but it’s possible, right?

Castiel’s hands are shaking. He’s wet and cold and might be about to have a panic attack.

“No, no, no, no,” he speaks to himself. “Don’t be ridiculous.” The iPod is old and has been acting up in the past. There’s a technical problem, that’s all.

Anyway, the bath was for nothing. He’s more stressed out than ever when he towels off properly and removes the plug to let the water drain from the tub.

He doesn’t dare to think of what just happened until the evening but when he can’t push the thought away any longer, he picks up the iPod again and scrolls through the library. There’s nothing. No Jefferson Airplane to be found.

It’s not that late yet, so Cas decides to take a walk instead of brooding over technical irregularities. Just outside the house he comes across a young woman he’s seen once before leaving for work. Considering where she was headed that time, Cas guesses she’s one of the Banes’ Dean has mentioned to him—the owner of the wind chime and the cat responsible for his little accident last week.

“Hello,” he says as he walks by her.

“Oh, hi,” she replies and Cas notices she has stopped so he does too.

“You must be Cas,” she says. “Dean’s told me about you. I’m Alicia,” she tells him and offers her hand.

Cas accepts it but flinches away when he feels something brushing his legs and sees Quentin disappear behind Alicia’s long and flowy skirt. She chuckles and bends down to pick him up.

“He’s always liked to sneak around here. I guess there’s mice or something living under your house,” she says.

“Mr. Turner said it’s all clear,” Cas replies stupidly as if she knew anything about the trouble he’s been having.

“I like it too, the atmosphere of the house. I’ve never been inside, though,” she says, finishing her own line of thought.

Quentin purrs on her arm and Alicia gently scratches his head.

“Maybe it’s something else that’s drawing him here,” she continues, looking at Castiel’s house. “He’s very sensitive. Cats…animals in general can feel things that tend to escape the human mind.”

Cas doesn’t know how to respond to that. Instead he says, “You live in the house over there, right?”

“Yes,” she says, “Mom left it to me and my brother when she passed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about your mother.”

“It’s okay. We still talk to her sometimes,” she says.

Cas supposes she means when they visit her grave at the cemetery. How else would they talk to her.

The cat meows and Alicia translates that he wants to go home.

“Bye, Cas. See you around!” she says and Quentin wriggles in her arms until he’s able to look over her shoulder and watches the house as they leave.

Cas continues his walk but doesn’t go further than just around the block. It’s colder than he anticipated and instead of warming up quickly after entering the house he’s still freezing when he goes to bed.

 

He sleeps through the most of Sunday, curled up in the living room. Despite turning the heat up high, the air in the room feels chilly and Cas is sure he’s getting sick.

Yet, on Monday he feels well enough to go to work and the day after that he’s fully recovered and on Wednesday they’re having cake at work because it’s Hannah’s birthday. All in all, this has been a good week and on Thursday he even receives a text message from Claire, though it ends with a warning to expect a call from her mother in the evening.

Cas anticipates the worst and as it turns out he’s got every right to do so. Like it’s nothing, his ex-wife informs him she and Claire are going to spend Thanksgiving with her parents. Her mother is sick and will be recovering from surgery during the holidays—thanks for telling him about that—and she won’t be able to come here like they usually do. Castiel, of course, is not invited, because, naturally, that would be weird.

He’s always gotten along with his (former) parents-in-law and he’s aggrieved to be treated like this all of a sudden. Had he known Claire’s grandmother was sick, he would certainly have called and wished her all the best. But no, they’re divorced, which apparently means all ties to them are supposed to be cut loose.

He’s still Claire’s father, for god’s sake, and it concerns him too when her granny is ill!

They end up shouting at each other over the phone, though the argument is pointless. Claire will still spend Thanksgiving a hundred miles away from him.

Cas is furious after finishing the call and punches a pillow due to the lack of someone’s face. This is not fair! He doesn’t deserve to be treated this way he—

The lights begin to flicker before he can finish the thought.

Now that’s great…just great. Claire was right calling this place a shithole. He should’ve just stayed with Gabriel because then he would at least have somebody to complain to right now. And why is it so cold again? Cas’s face is still hot from rage but a quick look at the thermostat tells him the temperature has dropped considerably. His heating bill is probably going through the roof already but all that hard-earned money is thrown out the drafty windows and doors. Could he sue Mr. Turner for this?

He’s about to call his landlord to yell at him, being in desperate need of some sort of vent right now, when the picture of Claire he’s placed on the mantle falls over and the frame crashes on the floor. The lights go out and he swears he can see a figure standing by the fire place.

The room becomes bright again as abruptly as it has gone dark and Castiel realizes there’s no-one there. Then, with a bang, the Jefferson Airplane song is playing on maximum volume, the suddenness of which basically throwing Cas off his feet.

He’s in shock—due to the fall, and because he has no idea what’s going on right now. One thing is clear, though: he’s the only person in the room but he’s definitely not alone. And that scares the hell out of him.

He’s so cold his limbs are numb, yet somehow he manages to crawl across the floor and reach the front door. The air from outside hits him like a warm summer breeze compared to the atmosphere in the house and when he sets the first foot over the threshold he can feel a hand on his shoulder, making him pull the door shut behind him with such force that shakes the entire house.

But he’s made it out. He’s made it out alive—(was his life even in danger?)—and he’s sucking in this late October night to warm his lungs and then he hears the cracking of wood and the rocking chair in the corner starts a gentle swing which sends Cas tumbling down the porch and along the pathway to the street.

Quentin wonders what the matter with this human is when he pads out from behind the chair. _Always so nervous,_ the cat thinks as he’s investigating the curious scent this place emits. Something keeps drawing his attention to the house, yet he can’t quite put his paw on it. It’s something he has witnessed with his humans before but this right here is considerably more intense.

 

The hasty ringing of his doorbell is accompanied by rapid knocks on the door.

“Coming,” Dean says loudly and before he can even see who’s there a golden flash has outpaced him and almost throws the visitor off his feet.

“Annabel,” he says with determination in his voice and the dog lays off enthusiastically greeting Cas. “Good dog,” he tells her and the golden retriever comes to stand by his side, expectantly waiting for what comes next.

“Sorry for that,” Dean says and his face falls when he sees Cas’s crooked posture and the grayish color of his skin. “Cas, what’s wrong?”

“I, uh,” he starts, glances down at Annabel, then back at Dean.

“Won’t you come inside?” Dean says when Cas doesn’t finish the sentence. He looks like he’ll pass out any second.

Dean steers his neighbor into the living room and makes him take a seat on the couch. Cas just blankly stares into the void until he notices there’s someone else in the room with them.

“Oh,” he says. “I didn’t know you had company. I don’t want to…I can leave.”

Dean keeps him in place with a hand on his shoulder when he tries to get up again.

“You’re not going anywhere, Cas.” He’s speaking in the same tone he did with the dog earlier. “What happened?”

His eyes are moving back and forth between Dean and Sam who eventually takes his cue and leaves the room, signaling Annabel to follow him.

“I didn’t know you had a dog,” Cas says when they’re gone.

“She’s Sam’s,” Dean explains.

“Is Sam your—”

“Brother,” Dean clarifies.

“Ah…”

“Cas, what’s going on? Why are you here? And why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Dean has taken a seat next to him.

“Maybe I have,” Cas says, absent-minded.

Dean shakes his head. “Cas, I’m sorry but I gotta ask—are you high?”

“No!” he replies, very much offended.

“Drunk?”

Cas groans. “Dean, I’m perfectly sober.”

“Then tell me—what’s going on with you?”

“I’m, uh…I don’t know. It’s just…there are things going on in my house that I can’t explain and—you must think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Dean says softly. He’s worried about him.

“Maybe I should just drive over to my brother’s and hope he’s not currently having an orgy,” Cas says.

“Absolutely not,” Dean insists and Cas gives him a questioning look. “You’re in no condition to drive. You can stay here.”

“Dean, I can’t possibly—”

“You’re staying here, end of story.”

Then Dean calls Sam, telling him he can join them and to bring a beer for Cas with him.

“Hey, I’m Sam,” his brother introduces himself. “And that’s Annabel,” he says, petting the dog’s head.

“I said he could come over because his girlfriend told me she needed a break,” Dean says with a smirk and Sam hits him on the shoulder.

“Don’t listen to him,” he tells Cas.

“You live with your girlfriend?” Cas asks.

“Yes,” Sam confirms. “Her name’s Eileen.”

“And if I had anything to say in it, she’d be your wife by now,” Dean says.

“But you don’t. I don’t want to rush things. Not after what happened with…you know.”

“I get that,” Cas says. Maybe if he had thought it through for a bit longer, he would never have…

“So, Cas,” Dean interrupts his thoughts. “Do you really not want to tell us what you saw?”

Cas takes a long draw from his beer. The fact that Sam is now around, too, doesn’t ease the embarrassment this situation causes him.

“Cas, you can tell us,” Sam says and Cas is surprised by how comforting his voice sounds.

“Please don’t laugh,” Cas begs.

“We won’t,” Sam assures him and the way he talks and looks at him is enough to make him spill everything. From the nightly bumping, the flickering lights, the incident with his iPod to what’s happened just now, Cas doesn’t leave out a single part of his strange story.

He’s actually panting when he’s done. Maybe he’s out of breath because he agitatedly talked for twenty minutes straight, or because now that he’s done he realizes how insane this all sounds.

Neither of the brothers says anything for a minute afterwards.

“We should go and check it out,” Sam speaks up eventually.

A cold shudder runs over Castiel’s back.

“No!” he blurts. He doesn’t think he can ever go back there.

Dean gently places a hand on his shoulder. “Cas, we need to do something. Sooner or later you’re gonna have to go back to your house.”

“You can stay here while we’re taking a look,” Sam offers.

Annabel slips past Sam and rests her head in Castiel’s lap. This small gesture gives him enough strength to agree to go back over and thankfully strokes her head.

“Alright,” he says and the three men proceed to leave Dean’s house.

Annabel gets very excited when they reach Cas’s front porch and disappears into the dark house as soon as Sam has opened the door. He calls after her but the dog doesn’t obey.

Dean enters the house after his brother and Cas follows suit, staying closely behind him. It’s taking a lot out of him to not just grab Dean’s hand as they carefully move further inside the house.

Cas runs into him when Annabel’s sudden bark makes him stop dead in his tracks and he’s so scared he just wants to pull Dean close but then Sam has found a light switch and the room goes bright.

“God, that dog almost gave me a heart attack,” Dean grumbles.

“Relax, Dean,” Sam says, rolling his eyes.

“Is that the picture you mentioned?” he asks Cas as he fetches the broken frame from the floor.

Cas nods. “I swear, there’s no rational explanation for it tipping over.”

“It’s quiet,” Dean notes.

“You said the music just started out of nowhere?” Sam inquires.

“Can you hear it now?” Dean asks before Cas can answer.

He furrows his brows. “No, there’s nothing.”

Dean mimics Cas’s face. “You don’t believe me,” he says.

“Yeah, Cas, we do,” Sam says replies for his brother. “Right, Dean?”

Dean hesitates for a second. “Of course we do,” he says then.

Cas is pretty sure he only says that to calm him down. He feels bad for having bothered him with this.

“Hey, where’s Annabel?” Dean wonders after a while.

Cas hadn’t even realized she’s gone. As if on cue they hear barking from upstairs and all three of them rush to where it’s coming from. They find her in the bathroom, eagerly chasing something until she comes to an abrupt stop.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Sam asks.

Annabel turns around and looks up to him, happily awaiting a command from him.

“You were right about the smell,” Dean says. “Didn’t notice it when I was fixing your lamp the other day.”

Weirdly, Cas feels relief over Dean’s statement. “What now?” he says.

“Do you want me to stay here with you tonight?” Dean asks.

To be honest, Cas had hoped Dean would let him stay over at his place but of course that’s too much to ask. He’s already caused his neighbor enough trouble by alerting him this way late on a weekday and he’s an awful person for wanting the whole hand when he’s being offered a finger.

“What about Sam?” he asks.

“Sam should get going now,” Sam says. “It’s gotten late.”

“Cas?” Dean reminds him of his question.

“I’m, uh…if it’s not too much to ask.”

“It’s not,” Dean insists. “I’ll get some stuff from my house. Be right back.”

“Goodbye, Cas,” Sam says. “It was nice meeting you.”

“You too. Bye, Sam. And thank you,” he tells him and gives Annabel a quick scratch behind her ear.

Cas is alone in the house for less than ten minutes but he’s jumpy and over-attentive, expecting something to happen with every small sound he’s not even sure is actually real or just in his head.

“Where do you want me?” Dean asks when he’s returned with an overnight bag.

“I checked my bedroom. There’s bumping again. I’d offer you Claire’s bed but I don’t think she’d want that. I should at least ask her before I let anyone else sleep in there. It’s the only piece of furniture I bought for this house.” He feels a little helpless right now. “You can have the sofa. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Not happening, Cas,” Dean says.

“Yeah, okay, sorry. This was a bad idea. You can go home if you want. I’ll…I’ll live. Probably.”

“I meant you sleep on the sofa, I’ll take the floor.”

“No, Dean, I can’t—”

“I brought a sleeping bag. I’m gonna sleep on top of it. I really don’t mind, okay?”

Cas gives in and nods and provides him with a pillow and a blanket.

“Why are you doing this, Dean?” Cas asks when they’ve both lain down on their respective ‘beds’.

“Doing what?”

“This…everything you’ve ever done for me since we met.”

“Because I’m a nice guy.”

“Dean, seriously,” Cas insists. “Don’t tell me you would’ve done this for anyone. Especially not for a guy claiming his house is haunted. You must think I’m nuts.”

Then Cas realizes what he just said. He said out loud what he didn’t even dare to think until tonight. The house is haunted. He moved into a haunted house. Cas isn’t even sure he believed in ghosts before.

He can hear Dean adjusting on his makeshift mattress.

“I like you, okay,” he says, after a while, fake annoyance swinging with his voice. “I think you’re cool.”

It’s dark and there’s a height difference between them, so Dean can’t see Cas smile.

“And, honestly, I’m not fully convinced yet there’s actually some sort of ghost in this house. But what I’m sure of is that you’re having some issues right now and you need a friend.”

After a pause Dean resumes, “And, I have to admit, Annabel’s behavior earlier was a bit odd.”

Cas is grateful for Dean’s honesty and support. He really needs a friend and is happy to have found one in his new neighbor.

“Hey, Dean,” he says after a minute.

“Hm?”

“Same.”

“Sleep, Cas. I have work in the morning,” Dean says grumpily.

“Good night, Dean.”

He’s sleeping better that night than he thought was possible on this sofa.

~~~*~~~

They part in the morning when both have to leave for work. Cas doesn’t know how to continue afterwards. They avoided talking about ghosts over their coffees in Castiel’s kitchen. However, the problem is far from being solved. His house is still haunted and he’s not sure if there even is a way to get rid of whatever paranormal thing it actually is that’s troubling him. Cas just assumed it’s a ghost ‘cause what else could it be? Does he need the Ghostbusters or rather an exorcist?

The easiest solution, of course, would be to move but that’s not in the cards at the moment. He’d rather live with a ghost that likes psychedelic rock than with his brother. And he likes his neighbors.

When he’s almost home, Dean calls him and asks if he wants to go out for a drink or two and because it’s Friday and he’s been through a lot lately Cas thinks he deserves that.

However, things don’t pan out as planned. That’s become a habit lately and Cas should be used to it by now.

“Claire, what are you doing here?”

His daughter is sitting on his porch steps when he arrives at the house.

“Can I stay here tonight?” she says.

“Why? What happened?”

“Uh, you know, I’m kinda tired of mom right now and I could use a night away from her.”

“And she’s okay with that?”

“I told her I’m staying at Alex’ place.”

“You lied to her?”

“Aren’t you glad to see me?”

“I’m…of course I am but…how did you even get here?”

“I took a bus.”

“Claire, I have to tell your mother that you’re with me.”

“No, dad, please!” she pleads, jumping up from the step she’s been sitting on. “I’ll be in serious trouble if she finds out I lied.”

“Well, I could too if she finds out were you are. And you shouldn’t have lied in the first place, Claire. What were you thinking?”

“Please, don’t call her. I just don’t wanna be home right now.”

“Claire, what happened? Did you have a fight?”

“Not exactly. She’s… You don’t wanna know.”

“ _Claire,”_ he says with intent.

“She’s having a date, alright? And I hate that guy and he’s coming over for dinner.”

Now that’s something he did not expect. Well, of course he knew his ex wouldn’t stay alone forever but… So soon? Technically, their marriage has been over for almost a year but… It hurts. It shouldn’t hurt. He’s not envious, obviously, he’s—

“Dad, are you okay?”

“Do I know this guy? No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”

“They met a few weeks ago. I don’t think you know him. But I can tell you he’s the worst. He thinks he’s cool and sucks up to me like it’ll help him with mom when I approve of him… I hope he won’t last.”

“Claire, you can’t stay here. I’m sorry.”

“What, why not? Didn’t you listen—I hate that guy!”

“The house is haunted.”

Claire sputters something resembling a laugh. “Just tell me you don’t wanna have me here,” she says and picks up her bag. “I’ll go.”

“No, Claire, wait!”

“Hey, what’s going on here?” Dean’s walking up the pathway, smiling and oblivious to their argument. “I thought I’d pick you up but then I saw your daughter’s here.”

“Claire told her mother she’s staying with her friend when she came to stay with me,” Cas explains.

“Oh, I get it. You planned a guy’s night out. That’s why you want me to leave. I guess your new buddy here is more important to you than your own daughter!”

“No, Claire, it’s not like that,” Dean says, trying to help. “I mean, yes, we planned to have a few drinks but you have to understand your dad’s having…things going on.”

“He said the house is haunted.”

Dean gapes at Cas. “You told her?”

“ _What?_ ” Claire looks at both of them. “You guys are kidding, right?”

“Well, Claire, I… There’s something in this house. I can’t guarantee for you safety,” Cas tries to explain.

“You think the ghost will try to hurt you?” Dean asks worriedly.

“Are you even serious?”

“Claire, listen, your father was really freaked out by what happened yesterday,” Dean placates.

“What happened?” she first asks Dean, then again, directed at her father, “What happened yesterday?”

“Oh…” Cas doesn’t want his daughter to think he’s lost his mind but there’s not really a way to tell somebody you’re being haunted without at least sounding a little crazy. “Some inexplicable things have happened since I’ve lived here and I have reason to believe they root in the supernatural.”

Claire lets his words sink in.

“Do you believe that too?” she asks Dean.

“I believe your dad,” he says and Cas could kiss him for that.

A smile sneaks onto Claire’s face. “Then what are you waiting for? I wanna see the ghost,” she says excitedly and starts to walk up to the front door.

“But what about—?”

“Dean can also come if he likes,” she says and they arrange to have a sleepover again.

While Dean is getting his stuff, Cas fills his daughter in on what’s been happening so far and as the phenomena usually happen at night and Cas’s bedroom is uninhabitable due to the strange noises—Claire hears them too when she checks it out, thank god, he’s not imagining things!—they move all mattresses downstairs to the living room.

“This feels like summer camp all over again,” Cas states when they’re done.

“It’s a shame the fire place isn’t working,” Dean says, “we could’ve even had a campfire.”

“And marshmallows!” Claire throws in.

“No,” Cas says, “you don’t understand. I hated summer camp…this here is not bringing back any good memories.”

“So, what are we gonna do now?” Dean asks then. “Watch some chick flick, braid Claire’s hair?”

“Yeah, I bet you’d love _Mean Girls,”_ Claire remarks.

“I love to hate Regina George,” Dean says without thinking.

“Dude!” Claire says and Dean is turning read.

“An ex-girlfriend made me watch it once. It’s a stupid movie…so boring.”

“You’re a fan,” Claire giggles.

“Shut up!” Dean says, visibly embarrassed.

“I see you two are getting along,” Cas analyzes their banter.

“I know what we can do,” Claire says then. “But therefore we need to move this to the kitchen table.”

While Claire organizes a drinking glass from the cabinet and draws something on a piece of paper, Dean asks Cas about her unscheduled visit.

“Her mother is having a date,” he says.

“Oh, Cas, that’s…I’m sorry. This must be hard.”

“I’m fine,” he says, “really. We’re divorced and she can date whomever she likes. The same applies for me.”

“That’s good to hear, Cas,” Dean says and squeezes his shoulder.

“Guys, I’m ready!”

They take a seat and Claire explains what they’re supposed to do. The glass is upside down on the sheet on which she wrote every letter of the alphabet and additionally a _Yes_ and _No._

“Just put your fingertips on the bottom of the glass,” she tells them. “I will do the talking.”

“Claire, where did you learn that?” Cas asks earnestly.

“Alex taught me. She once asked me if I wanted to talk to the spirit world. This is really cool, though I don’t think we were ever really able to get a connection.”

“I don’t like the influence this girl has on you,” Cas says, “I think she’s a Satanist. She always dresses up like a vampire or something.”

“She’s a Goth,” Claire corrects him. “We’re not trying to summon the devil here. This is just a way to find out what the ghost wants.”

“Come on, let’s start,” Dean interjects before Cas can voice more of his concerns.

They do what Claire told them to and she closes her eyes. She’s quiet for a while, then she begins, “Oh, spirit, we’ve gathered around this table upon wish to communicate.”

Dean has a hard time trying not to laugh and Cas considers having a serious talk with her mother about this Alex girl.

She repeats the words a few times but nothing happens.

“Claire, I don’t think this is working,” Cas says after a while.

“Shht! You need to be patient,” she scolds him.

They wait another few minutes. Still, the spirit world doesn’t seem to be in the mood to talk.

“This is silly,” Cas says and just as he wants to remove his fingers from the glass it moves an inch to his right.

“Claire,” he says with a shaky voice, “stop it.”

“I didn’t do anything,” she says.

“Dean?”  
“This wasn’t me, I swear.”

They look around, scanning each other’s face for any sign of a lie.

The glass under their fingers slides another few inches across the table.

“This isn’t funny,” Cas whines weakly.

Claire instead directs her first question at their invisible guest. “Can you hear us?”

It takes a few seconds but then the glass moves over to the word _Yes._

Cas’s eyes are opened wide in fear. He’s her father and she has to do whatever he says—why didn’t he just send her home?

“Who are you?” she asks.

Yet again nothing happens.

“Who are you?” she repeats after a while. “Please, talk to us,” she adds when the glass still doesn’t move.

Then Cas can feel movement under his fingertips. The glass slides to the A, then the L.

“…I-C-E,” Claire spells out loud. “Alice.”

“What?” The word just escapes Cas’s mouth.

“That mean something to you?” Dean asks.

“The song,” he stumbles, “the Jefferson Airplane song.”

“Do you want me to continue,” Claire asks.

“Ask her what she wants from me,” Cas says.

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes again. “Why are you here?”

Another word is spelled. “L-O-V-E,” Claire reads. “Love.”

“Cas, I think Dead Girl has a crush on you,” Dean teases him.

“Not funny, Dean.” Cas removes his hands for a second to wipe them dry on his pants. “Tell her to go away,” he says after putting his fingers back on the glass.

Claire clears her throat before resuming, “Can you leave this house?”

The lights begin to flicker as soon as she’s finished the question. It’s getting colder.

“Holy shit,” Dean gasps out.

“Alice, please just leave my house,” Cas begs.

The table begins to shake under them. The flickering of the lamps gets worse and Cas nervously pulls his hands back.

“I don’t like this,” Dean says and then the glass is dragged away from under their fingers and smashes against the wall.

After the crash the room is cloaked in silence.

“I think I want to watch _Mean Girls_ now,” Dean says.

“Yeah, good idea,” Cas agrees.

Claire on the other hand seems less worried. “This was awesome,” she says eventually. Both men send her a horrified look. “Whatever… _Mean Girls_ sounds cool.”

~~~*~~~

Cas has just come back from bringing Claire home. He let her out around the corner to not make her mother suspicious and contribute to her story that she took the bus from her friend’s. He should have lectured his daughter about her behavior but after what they witnessed last night he’s relieved somehow, in a really weird way, that he could proof the existence of a ghost to other people. Well, Claire could. Alice—if that’s its real name—hasn’t bothered them after their little séance.

On the way he bought some pie from a bakery Gabriel has recommended to him a while back because Dean mentioned he likes pie and Cas can’t bake and getting him pie is the least he can do to thank him. He also got a bottle of red wine because they didn’t get to spent their evening as planned yesterday and he wants to make up for it.

Dean is happy to see him when Cas comes over in the late afternoon and even more pleased to see the pie Cas brought. They split it into halves but Dean ends up eating at least two thirds alone. Cas doesn’t mind.

They talk for a while and when it’s dark outside, Dean suggests watching a movie.

“No horror and no chick flicks, please,” Cas says, chuckling, as they browse through Dean’s Netflix account.

They settle on a light comedy and drink the wine Cas brought along with the pie. Dean admits he usually prefers beer but says what Cas chose tastes good.

Cas feels drowsy when the credits roll and really doesn’t want to think of sleeping in his spook house tonight. The mattresses are still in the living room and he can’t possibly ask Dean to have another sleepover. Dean deserves to sleep in his own bed in his own house for once.

“So,” Cas starts. “Maybe I should go now. I’ve already strained your generosity and you probably want some time for yourself every now and then.” He huffs a laugh in a weird attempt to make this situation less awkward.

“Uh, okay,” Dean says and Cas doesn’t know how to interpret his hesitant tone.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Dean straightens from his current position on the couch. “No, it’s just…. I wouldn’t mind if you stayed here. I wouldn’t wanna share my house with a ghost either.”

“Dean, no, that’s really kind of you but I can’t accept that.”

“Cas, please.” He places a hand on Castiel’s knee. “I can see how tense you are. Please, stay.”

Cas swallows hard. “Okay.”

“Great,” Dean says and gets up. “You can borrow a pair of sweat pants from me and I also have a spare toothbrush for you.”

Dean is in the bathroom while Cas changes into his sleeping attire in the living room. When he gets there to brush his teeth he notices that Dean is already in his pajamas as well. It’s the first time he sees him with only a T-shirt on.

“You…you’ve got a…you have a tattoo?” Cas stutters. He’s genuinely surprised.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean replies shyly, uncomfortably rubbing his inked arm.

“It’s…it’s an entire sleeve,” Cas observes.

“Yeah,” Dean says dumbly and he wishes Cas had never seen it. He was furious about Claire’s piercing and he probably doesn’t like tattoos either.

“It suits you,” Cas says then. “I like it.”

Now Dean’s the surprised one. “Really?”

“Yes, it looks good on you.” He’s smiling warmly at Dean.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says. Usually, he doesn’t seek approval for what he chooses to do with his own body, but Cas’s opinion is obviously very important to him.

Neither of them has a clue what to say next until Cas declares he’s going to brush his teeth. They don’t sleep in the same room like during the nights before. Dean disappears in his bedroom and Cas gets the couch which is so much more comfortable than what’s provided in Mr. Turner’s house.

 

Dean is already up and drinking coffee when Cas shuffles into his kitchen at ten on Sunday morning. For the first time in over two weeks he feels actually well-rested.

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean greets him.

“Good morning, Dean,” he says and unashamedly yawns and stretches his arms.

“Sleep well?” Dean asks smugly while preparing a cup of coffee for Cas.

“Perfect. You’re a life-saver, Dean. I don’t know what I would do without you.” He takes the cup from Dean and slowly savors the bitter taste, leaning against the kitchen isle.

“Save your compliments for a later hour,” Dean says and joins him.

“My brother called,” he says then.

“How is Sam?” Cas asks.

“He said there’s something he needs to tell you and wants to come over later today.”

“ _Me?”_ Sam hardly even knows him. “What does he want to tell me?”

“Didn’t say. But your ghost seems to have piqued his interest. He’s such a nerd when it comes to rather macabre topics. When he was in Junior High he held a presentation about serial killers and the teacher had our parents come in to have conversation about Sam’s worrisome curiosity.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that’d happen with Claire, too,” Cas says. “Am I a bad parent for letting her lead a séance?”

“I don’t think the parenting handbook has a chapter about paranormal incidents,” Dean says warmly.

They are quiet for a while, sipping their coffees.

“Dean,” Cas resumes eventually, “we can’t continue like this. I have to live in my own home, alone. We’re not roommates but I feel like I should start paying you rent by now.”

“I’ve stayed over at your house more often than you have stayed here,” Dean says.

“You know what I mean. This has to stop. I have to do something to make the ghost go away.”

“And how are you going to do that? I don’t think there’re ghost hunters in the Yellow Pages that aren’t actually a fraud.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what to do,” Cas says, then he adds, “you know what’s funny? Alicia Banes said she and her brother still talk to their dead mom. I could use someone like that…I mean, a real, genuine medium or something.”

“Hey, you know what? Maybe they can help,” Dean says, much to Castiel’s surprise. “They’re witches.”

“Because they own a black cat?” Cas doesn’t understand.

“No, that’s what they call themselves. You know, they’re kinda New Age-y, with the crystals and the candles and all… I’ve never really given it much thought but maybe they’re legit.”

“So, you’re suggesting I ask them to exorcise the ghost?”

“Unless you have Bill Murray’s number, yes,” Dean says.

 

Castiel feels stupid for what he is about to do and his feet move with slight reluctance as he walks across the street to the maroon house with the wind chime. Dean offered to come with him but Cas said it’s his house, his ghost and he can’t ask Dean to do all the talking for him. He’s fortunate enough that he believes him, that he gave him shelter and company when he needed it.

He rings the doorbell and soon after Alicia opens the door.

“Oh, hello Cas!” she greets him, apparently pleased to see him.

“Uh, hello Alicia… Um…” Witch or no witch—he doesn’t want any more people to think he’s lost his mind.

“Don’t you wanna come in?” she asks and Cas agrees to follow her inside.

She leads him into a spacious dining room. Dark wood panels with decorative carvings give it an enigmatic yet not unwelcoming atmosphere.

“Would you like some tea? I just made a pot,” she says.

He could really use some to calm his nerves and Alicia quickly disappears into the kitchen.

Quentin strides through the room, unbothered by Castiel’s presence.

“Here you go,” Alicia says when she sets a steaming cup in front of Cas. “It’s my special blend. I collected and dried the herbs myself.”

“It smells very good,” Cas says.

“So, Cas, what can I do for you?” she asks after she’s joined him at the table.

“You, uh… This probably is going to sound weird to you but…”

“It’s about your house, isn’t it?”

“How did you know?”

“I can feel the aura of something otherworldly following you like a shadow. And there’s something about the house itself that has changed. First I thought Quentin was over there so often lately preying on mice or birds, but it had to be more than that.”

He’s not sure if her words are comforting or unsettling.

“I have a ghost in my house,” he says.

“I thought so,” Alicia replies.

“Do you know a way to get rid of it?”

“Yes, Cas. I think we can help you.”

Cas sighs in relief.

“Is your mother’s ghost haunting your house, too?” he asks then. It’s probably too personal and he shouldn’t have interrogated but he’s anxious to know.

Alicia laughs and Cas wonders if she’s been pulling his leg the whole time.

“No,” she says. “She’s not around anymore. But on certain days when certain conditions apply, it’s easier to get in touch with the spirit world. Samhain for example…or Halloween, as you’d call it. I guess this day getting close is also a reason for why your encounters are rather distinct.”

“I haven’t told you what exactly I experienced,” Cas says.

“But I’ve seen you practically fleeing your house and I know you haven’t been sleeping there alone the past nights. I could sense how afraid you were.”

Cas is not sure whether to feel offended to have been observed like this.

“My brother won’t be back until the evening and I’m going to need his help, but I can prepare everything we need in the meantime and come over when he’s home,” Alicia offers. “Of course, doing this on Halloween would make it easier but I guess you wouldn’t want to wait till Tuesday.”

“No, please, do it as soon as possible! I can’t live like this.”

“Very well,” she says. “See you later.”

When he leaves the Banes sibling’s house, he realizes they haven’t even talked about any form of charge. Cas doesn’t know what they do for a living and if it’s the witchy thing he can’t imagine they’re doing this for free.

However, money doesn’t matter right now. He’ll pay whatever it takes to get rid of this ghost.

 

Sam arrives around two in the afternoon. He brought Annabel again and, much to Dean’s delight, Eileen.

“She was curious about the ghost after I told her what I found out,” Sam explains.

Dean hugs her tightly and Cas is a bit caught off guard when he begins to gesticulate his hands and fingers at her and she cheerfully salutes him, brushes her palms together and then touches her fingertips after what was probably their introduction.

“Uh, hello,” he says awkwardly, waving at her.

“No, that’s goodbye. Do this,” Dean says and salutes like Eileen has just done before.

Cas copies his movements and Eileen is grinning from ear to ear.

“Won’t we go inside?” Sam asks while skillfully signing the same for his girlfriend.

“Yeah, sure,” Cas says and one after another they file into the house.

“So, I did some research,” Sam says after Dean has closed the door behind them.

“You always do research, Sam. You’re a journalist. It’s literally your job.”

“And I’ve made good use of my resources to find out something about this house,” he says simultaneously in two languages.

“So get this,” he starts, “I’ve been wondering if any of the previous tenants have been mentioning a haunting. I asked Rufus but he said, quote, ‘I don’t rent out to crazy people.’ Sorry, Cas. You probably know how he is.”

“It’s okay.”

“Anyway, according to him there haven’t been any comparable occurrences in the past. But I chose to dig deeper into the history of the house and I learned that Rufus bought the house in ’75 after it had been uninhabited for years by then. The previous owner had completely neglected it and due to the terrible condition it was in, Rufus got it for a ridiculously low price. He put most his savings into the renovation but moved to a bigger house in the early eighties when his wife was expecting their second child, though he chose not to sell it.”

“And I suppose during his time here there weren’t any ghosts around,” Dean says.

“Nope. But I know why it was on the market for so long,” Sam says. “Some flower children used to occupy the house in the late sixties. They weren’t particularly popular among the neighbors but the owner didn’t really care about his property and let them stay. They didn’t vandalize the building nor did they harm anyone. However, the police eventually cleared the house after a girl had died from a drug overdose in 1970.”

“Let me guess,” Cas says, “her name was Alice.”

“Alice Burke,” Sam confirms. “Born in 1953, ran away from home at the age of fifteen when her parents got divorced.”

“Doesn’t this sound weirdly familiar to you?” Dean asks Cas.

“Do you think she started to haunt me because I have a daughter her age and got a divorce?”

“It’s not unlikely.”

“You know, the first time something happened was when Claire was here and we were having this argument about her not being allowed to stay home alone and getting a nose ring. And the incident that made me run over to you was after I had this huge fight with her mother over Claire being away during Thanksgiving.”

“And that’s the exact opposite of what she wants: love.”

“Peace and love and rock ’n’ roll…and drugs, apparently,” Cas summarizes.

They catch Sam and Eileen staring at them. Dean forgot to at least attempt signing what he said for her but he doubts his sign language skills would have been good enough anyway but he assumes Sam has kindly done this for him.

“Your ghost only wants everyone to get along. I think that’s cute,” Eileen signs.

“Yeah, it’s not so cute when you see it,” he tells her.

Then Annabel barks to get their attention, apparently wanting them to follow her.

“Oh, right, I forgot to mention it,” Sam says when they reach the bathroom. “This is where she died, choking on her vomit.”

“Hence the smell,” Dean notes.

He isn’t even startled when the lamp flares before immediately going dark again. Annabel keeps woofing and then, on full volume, music hits his eardrums.

“Can you hear it too?” Cas yells over the uproar.

“Yes,” Dean says.

“Me too,” Sam throws in and then Eileen makes a hand sign he is pretty sure means ‘Me too’ but this can’t be right.

“What did she say?” Dean asks.

Sam turns to Eileen and asks her to repeat it.

“She says she can hear it too,” he confirms.

“But…how?” Dean wonders.

Then the noise stops, thankfully.

“Because it’s only in our heads,” Cas says. “That’s why you and Rufus couldn’t hear anything the other day when this happened to me the first time.”

“Sorry I didn’t believe you then,” Dean says.

“Don’t be. I wouldn’t have believed me either.”

 

Sam and Eileen stay at Dean’s for a while after that. They order Chinese food but Cas isn’t particularly hungry, considering there’s still a ghost to be exorcised in his house tonight.

A guy who introduces himself as Max Banes rings Dean’s doorbell later that night, informing Cas that they’re ready to start whatever they’re going to do to make Castiel’s house spookless.

Alicia said Cas needs to be inside the house while they’re working their witchcraft as he’s the focus of the haunting and Cas is beyond grateful that Dean agrees to come too. He wouldn’t be able to do this without him.

Max lights candles in strategic places in the living room and Alicia sits on the floor and sets up a copper bowl, some herbs and a small dagger on a black sheet that has a pentagram on it.

Claire will probably be mad at him for not including her when he tells her about this after its done but this is definitely nothing to involve a child in.

He hopes what they’re doing isn’t actually dangerous.

They wait in the kitchen while Alicia and Max are doing their job—thank god, he doesn’t have to watch—and Cas is nervously walking up and down the room.

He can hear faint voices from the living room. It sounds like a chant in a language unknown to Cas and he feels like every gothic horror novel he’s ever read has ultimately become real.

“Cas,” Dean says softly, “it’s gonna be over soon. You’ll be alright.”

“You don’t know that,” he says.

“Cas, please, slow down.” Dean gets closer and he can feel Cas shaking with fear.

“Distract me with something, please” Cas says, “I don’t want to think of what’s happening right now.”

“Alright, yeah, sure.” Dean thinks for a moment. “So, okay, this isn’t probably the best time to bring this up, but what you said about you and your ex-wife being allowed to date… I mean, is this something you’d like yet, or is it still too soon for you to even think of going out with someone?”

“I… I guess I’d like to if someone asked me out.”

“Really?” Dean says with more enthusiasm than he would’ve liked. “I mean…it’s good you wanna move on.”

“So, where do you want to go?” Cas asks.

“What?”

“On our date,” he says.

“You, uh…” Dean’s a little overwhelmed right now.

Cas’s facial expression changes. “Oh, shit. I’m so stupid. Sorry, I totally misinterpreted… I thought _you_ wanted to go out with me.” He slaps himself for being impetuous but Dean interferes by pulling his hand away.

“No, you were right. I wanted to ask you out. I really like you, Cas.”

“I really like you too, Dean,” he replies, beaming at him and Dean just wants to get lost in those beautiful eyes.

Suddenly, all lights go out and Cas makes a frightened jump forward, causing him to press his body close against Dean’s. The glow of fire coming from the living room illuminates the kitchen slightly, then there’s a loud bang and with the silence that follows the light returns.

He can feel Dean’s heart beating as fast as his, clinging to each other, waiting for something else to happen.

“Uh, guys,” says Max who has appeared in the room with them.

They let the embrace slip but don’t completely let go of each other.

“It’s done. The ghost has moved on,” Max informs them.

“Thank you,” Cas breathes.

“We’ll just quickly pack our stuff and then we’re leaving you two alone,” he says, sending them a wink before he’s gone again.

They stare at each other for a moment before Cas says, “Dean, would you kiss me?”

“With pleasure,” Dean murmurs softly and leans in.

The kiss lights a spark in Castiel’s heart that beautifully warms both his flesh and soul. After all that cold he’s had to endure the past two weeks, feeling more like a corpse half the time, Dean breathes life back into him. Gentle fingers cradle his face, a protective arm keeps him close and Cas is sure that from now on things can only get better.

“So, I was thinking,” Dean says when they’ve stopped kissing, yet just a few inches away from Castiel’s lips, “how about that new Italian place downtown?”

“Sounds good,” Cas finds and closes the small distance again.

He’s only had a small taste and he’s already addicted. Maybe that’s what it was like for Alice—poor child. Now that she’s gone, Cas feels sorry for her but he’s confident she’s transcended into a better place where she receives all the love she longed for when she was alive.

~~~*~~~

_Halloween_

 

“You should have kept the ghost around at least until today,” Dean says after they’ve handed out another share of candy to the probably fifth Elsa this year, and it’s still early. “Just imagine—the actual Haunted House, where all your worst nightmares come true.”

Cas doesn’t look particularly amused.

“Just kidding,” Dean says. “I’m as relieved as you are that Alice is gone.”

“You know, I should be grateful for her.”

Dean replies with a furrow of his brows. “How so?”

“Because without her I might never have gotten to know you so well.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean says smugly, “you already caught my eye when you moved in and I can be very persistent.”

Cas chuckles and lets himself be enveloped by Dean’s arms. They stay like this for a while until he feels Dean tense up.

“What is it?” he asks, leaning back to look into his eyes.

“Uh…” Dean lets go of him and nervously scratches the back of his head. “I know this house isn’t exactly great and you’d move out, even with the ghost gone now, as soon as possible if you could…”

“But that’s not happening any time soon, you know that, Dean. I’ll have to live with this place for a while longer.”

“Yeah, but…” He takes a deep breath. “Listen, I understand if you won’t accept any kind of financial aid and I really don’t mean to scare you off with this—”

“Dean, please don’t offer me money. I will never take it.”

“No! No…you’re getting me wrong. What I meant to say was, if this here, the thing between us works out, you might, maybe after a month or two—and I know this would still be going very fast—, move in with me?”

“Dean…”

“You don’t have to answer me right now, but please consider it.”

Cas’s lips form a gentle smile. “I will. Thank you, Dean.”

Dean waves him off, shyly, before pulling him in once more and pressing his lips against Cas’s.

Eventually, they’re interrupted by the doorbell announcing another group of trick-or-treaters.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!


End file.
